2/4
“A small, at the very largest,” said Ryan, looking through the sizes and pulling out a smaller pair of black jeans, shoving them into Brendon’s hands.
“Are you sure?” asked Brendon doubtfully; frowning at the garment he was now holding.
“Yeah,” said Ryan, pushing Brendon into the fitting rooms.
Brendon pulled the dark blue curtain shut, sighing deeply. He could hear Ryan’s stifled giggles on the other side of the veil. Brendon pulled off his dark gray jeans. He gave the black ones a curious look before pulling them on with difficulty. He jumped around in the stall, trying to pull them on. Brendon got them up to his thighs before he fell over.
“Ouch, that didn’t sound good, are you okay?” asked Ryan chuckling.
“No!” called out Brendon from the other side of the curtain, he sounded close to tears. He stood up shakily, sliding the jeans up to his waist until they wouldn’t go any higher.
Brendon looked down; all the material was gathered at his feet, with many creases around his knees. They were at least two inches too long.
“Have you got them on yet?” asked Ryan impatiently.
“I think they’re too long,” complained Brendon, opening up the curtain.
A grin graced Ryan’s face. “They’re perfect!” he exclaimed, “now go take them off and I’ll pick out some other ones.”
Brendon was horrified. “What? I have to take them off? I nearly died putting them on!” he complained as Ryan shoved him back into the stall.
“Yes, take them off,” said Ryan.
Surprisingly they slid off easier than they did when they were pulled on. Shivers went down Brendon’s spine as the tight denim skated down his legs.
Brendon never noticed how comfortable his gray jeans were. He left the stall, carrying the black jeans and walked over to Ryan who was standing at the counter. He placed the jeans on the counter, a little surprised at the girls attitude, she acted as though boys wandered in and bought girl pants all the time.
Ryan shoved the bag of jeans into Brendon’s hand. Brendon ignored a pang of guilt that ran through him.
“Do you want anything else?” asked Ryan as they left the store, “Like, a heater?”
Brendon shook his head vigorously. “No. You didn’t even have to get me these,” said Brendon awkwardly, holding up the bag.
“It’s not like your parents are ever going to,” uttered Ryan under his breath.
Brendon looked down at his feet as they walked, pretending he hadn’t heard. Ryan was right, though; his parents wouldn’t have taken him shopping just so he can get some new clothes. Brendon stopped and pulled Ryan into a tight hug, pressing his head against Ryan’s chest.
“Thank you, Ryan,” said Brendon sincerely.
“It was nothing,” dismissed Ryan, but he was pleased all the same.
The walk back to Brendon’s house was just as silent as the walk to the mall. The only difference was it was now getting dark. The sun with the wings of gold had nearly depleted.
Once they were at the door Brendon turned to face Ryan. “Thanks,” he said simply.
Ryan grinned. “It was nothing, really.”
“Do you want to come in? My parents could probably give you a lift to your house,” Brendon’s nose crinkled up. Both he and Ryan knew that was untrue.
“I, well, I’ll see you at school tomorrow, unless you, ah, unless you - unless,” Ryan stuttered, leaving the rest of his sentence suspended in midair. Ryan never stuttered.
Brendon ignored the desire burning in Ryan’s eyes.
“I’ll just, um, see you at school tomorrow,” said Brendon, rubbing the back of his neck.
Ryan nodded, a little downhearted. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”
Brendon turned and walked to his door as Ryan strolled down the pathway. He stopped once he reached the sidewalk. “Brendon?”
Brendon turned around quickly. “Yes?”
“I - um - I think, I think that you looked really nice, I think you looked really nice today,” said Ryan quickly, trying to amplify what he was saying by moving his hands around.
Brendon smiled. “Um, thanks. You, er, well, you looked nice, too,” he said before going inside, a smile playing on his face.
Once he was safely in his room, Brendon looked through the other things Ryan had gotten him. There was an additional three pairs of jeans and a lavender hoodie, though the thing that intrigued Brendon the most was what he pulled out last. Brendon’s eyes widened.
In his hands he was holding a makeup kit, mostly made up of mascara and eyeliner. He looked at the makeup blankly. Brendon jumped as his bedroom door opened. He shoved his leggings back into the bag, but his father had seen them.
Brendon hung his head as his father stalked over to him.
When Brendon came to school the next day with a black eye, Ryan knew he’d been too bold with the makeup.
“Brendon, what happened?” asked Ryan, placing his hand on Brendon’s arm as he walked past. Brendon gave Ryan a tearful look before retreating to the back of the classroom, sparing no one a second glance.
Ryan looked at the teacher in an attempt to appear as though he was listening. His heart clenched at every small sniffle that echoed from the back of the room.
*
Subject: RE: Hey Brenda
To: Brendonurie@gmail.com
Sent: November 5th 2002
From: jwalker@hotmail.com
Attachment/s: IMG456, IMG234, IMG765, IMG321
Hey Brendon!
How is everything? I hope everyone is treating you well. I miss you more than ever. My mum let me buy two kittens! Well, actually, I was only supposed to get one, but I had to get him a friend, right? They’re really, really cute, I can’t wait for you to see them, like, properly see them. I took some pictures. I know you don’t like animals that much, but you can’t tell me they’re not cute.
Anyway, how are your ... parents going? I hope you’re not letting them get you down. How is Ryan? I don’t know Brendon, but it sounds like he may have a little crush on you. Aha.
I’ll see you very soon!
Missing you, Jon. <3
*
He could hear Brendon’s laughter echoing through the trees. The pretty sound rebounded off the leaves and dove into the small puddles that were decorating the ground. Ryan ran through the trees laughingly, trying to find the owner of that mischievous laugh.
It was a breezy afternoon, easy. The trees were smiling at them. Ryan could hear their stream running, hidden by a veil of flowering plants. Ryan was close behind Brendon now; he could hear the other boy’s fast footsteps kicking up the fallen leaves. Ryan glanced behind him when his yellow scarf flew from his neck and into the wind. It soared back down the path until it keeled over on the ground. Ryan gave a soft shrug and didn’t turn around. He kept running after Brendon.
Suddenly the footsteps ceased, along with the laughter. All Ryan could hear now was his own heart, pounding against its cage and the occasional chirp of a bird. Ryan begun slowing down until he was walking, and then again until he had stopped moving altogether.
“Brendon?” he called out worriedly. His voice echoed in the small clearing.
“Ryan?” was Brendon’s prompt reply. He spoke in a mock-challenging voice and then erupted into a fit of laughter. Ryan sighed, relieved, and begun running again until e met up with a main path. The gravel cracked under his feet. Ryan looked around and grinned when he saw Brendon’s obnoxiously red sweatshirt poking out from behind a large tree. Ryan crept over to the younger boy, letting out a loud noise once he was close. Brendon shrieked loudly and fell backwards into some shrubs.
“I found you. I win,” said Ryan, panting slightly. Brendon looked up at him with wide eyes.
“Don’t scare me like that!” he scolded playfully, standing up shakily with the help of Ryan’s hand. Brendon dusted some imaginary dirt from his knees and gave Ryan a shy smile.
Ryan smiled back. “We haven’t been here in awhile,” he remarked, gesturing around with his arms. His heart was still beating too fast.
“Yeah,” said Brendon breathlessly. “Um, do you remember that tree house we found down here?”
Ryan nodded. “Yes, of course, what about it?”
Brendon grinned enthusiastically. “I think we should go find it!”
Ryan sighed. He had known Brendon had dragged him to their old park for a reason. “Do you even remember where it is?” asked Ryan, allowing Brendon to take one of his hands.
Brendon grinned again. And it was so nice to see him smiling. “Of course I remember, it is right down this path then you turn when you see that big tree with the tyre swing.”
“How do you remember all that?” asked Ryan curiously, following Brendon as he started walking. “I mean, I know we used to come here a whole lot, but I can’t remember.”
Brendon grinned sheepishly. “Well, Jon and me came here last year,” he said, a pink tinge appearing on his cheeks.
Ryan felt a strange twinge in his chest. “Oh, you had fun, did you?”
Brendon gave him an odd look. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you know, it’s kind of our place,” said Ryan airily. “But if you and Jon had fun, then it’s all okay.”
“I didn’t know it was still ours, I’m sorry,” said Brendon sadly.
Ryan started walking a little faster, so Brendon was behind, though their hands were still connected. “It’s okay,” he said.
Brendon had to add a skip into his steps to keep up with Ryan, but he didn’t mind. They turned at the tyre swing. Ryan took Brendon down a small slope, avoiding hills and still holding his hand, even though he didn’t know the way. Then they were out in a large clearing. The ground was covered with lime green grass. Their tree house was in the oak tree that was mounted slightly on hill.
Ryan dropped Brendon’s hand and started running ahead. “Race you!”
Brendon grinned lightly and chased after him. Ryan was faster and made it over to the tree first. Ryan climbed up the tree first, extending his arm down to Brendon once he was in the wooden tree house. Brendon smiled and rested against the wall, looking out into the field.
“This would be a good place for taking pictures,” observed Brendon.
“Yeah,” agreed Ryan, his eyes trained on Brendon. “A very nice place.”
Brendon’s smile vanished when Ryan scooted closer. Ryan leaned in for a kiss, but seemed to think better of it; instead he pulled Brendon into a hug. He rested his chin on Brendon’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around Brendon’s torso. Brendon let out a shaky breath as Ryan pulled away.
Brendon gave Ryan a shy smile as the older boy flicked some hair from Brendon’s eyes. He needed those small moments to know everything was okay.
Brendon sighed once Ryan had pulled away. “It’s not as fun as I remember,” he remarked wistfully.
“That’s because we brought games,” said Ryan.
Brendon gave him a sad smile and stood, he crossed the tree house and looked out a crudely cut window. Ryan walked over and stood behind him.
Ryan slipped his fingers under Brendon’s shoulder blades. “This is where your wings would be if you were an angel,” whispered Ryan.
Brendon closed his eyes and a pained expression coated his face. “But,” continued Ryan, sliding his hands from Brendon’s back. “But you’re not an angel, and I need to stop pretending you are one.”
Brendon shuddered.
*
It took a month until Brendon had enough courage to ask Ryan about the makeup. They were sitting on some rocks at the end of the jetty. Cold seawater was being thrown into the air as large waves crashed over the lower rocks.
“Ryan?” asked Brendon softly, hugging his legs against his chest.
“Yeah?” queried Ryan, draping an arm around Brendon’s shoulders.
“Why did you buy me that, erm, make up?”
Ryan blushed crimson. He knew that Brendon was going to bring this up at some point. “I - well, I kind of wanted, well I-I thought you’d look pretty wearing … it?”
“Oh,” replied Brendon. He wasn’t going to act upon his feelings.
Ryan bit his lip and leaned in a little closer to Brendon. His heart was racing. “I’d really like to kiss you right now,” he said silkily.
Brendon stood, letting Ryan’s arm drop. “My parents will be expecting me home soon,” he said coldly before turning around and walking back down the jetty.
Ryan swore before jumping up and running after Brendon. Too much too soon. “Brendon! I’m sorry, look, it won’t happen again,” vowed Ryan.
Brendon nodded. “Okay. Anyway, my parents will be really angry if -”
“Is that all you think about? Your parents? It’s all you talk about! My parents this, my parents that! They’re fucking horrible, Brendon! They don’t even love you - stop trying so goddamn hard to please them!” Ryan knew he’d crossed the line.
Brendon turned around, tears streaming down his face. “They’re all I have,” he said softly. Brendon felt a burning hatred for Ryan, one he’d never felt before.
“Bren, look, I’m sorry,” said Ryan, reaching out to grasp Brendon’s hand.
Brendon backed away. “I-I don’t w-want you touching me anymore,” he said, turning around and stalking off towards the car park.
“How the hell are you going to get home?” called out Ryan, his pace increasing. He sounded angry, though, it was himself he was angry at. He had shattered Brendon.
“I’ll take the bus, fucker!” yelled out Brendon without looking around.
Thankfully, it didn’t take long for a bus to pull over. Without looking back at Ryan, Brendon climbed into the bus. He fished around in his pocket, dumping a few coins into the driver’s hand. “This bus goes into Ashton, right?” asked Brendon.
“This bus goes all through town,” warned the bus driver, “if you want a direct route to Ashton you should take the next bus.”
Brendon shook his head. “No, I’ll take the scenic route,” said Brendon.
The driver shrugged and started the bus as Brendon took a seat at the back. He looked out the window sadly. The worst thing was not that he had almost disappointed his parents; it was that he had disappointed Ryan. For some reason, that was much worse.
Brendon got home an hour later, well into the evening. He wanted to retreat to his room, perhaps read a book, but his stomach was growling angrily. Sighing, Brendon walked up the stairs, into the well-lit kitchen.
His mother was sitting at the table, sipping a coffee. Brendon swallowed some bile in his throat but maintained his poise as he grabbed an apple out of the fridge. He crossed the room again, making it to the top of the stairs before his mother called him back.
“Your marks are falling,” she said softly, tiredly. She wasn’t as frightening when alone, Brendon noted. The fear that enslaved his mind when his parents worked as a team stopped him from seeing them as individuals. Brendon didn’t know his parents very well.
“I’ve been studying,” said Brendon, lying through his teeth. In truth, he and Ryan had been cavorting around the city. Seeing movies, playing in the park, going to the beach and just hanging out in each other’s bedrooms, namely Ryan’s.
“Study harder,” said his mother before returning to her coffee. Brendon took this as his cue to leave and made a hasty exit.
Once safely in his room, Brendon glanced at his many books and revision sheets on his table. Suddenly he felt very tired. For the first time, Brendon disobeyed his parents. He went to his bed and lied down.
He was going to sleep restlessly that night, he could tell. Ryan’s house was the only place where Brendon usually slept well. Ryan, with his bright sunny windows, colorful room and walls laid bare for the eyes to see. Covered in pretty things.
Brendon knew about walls. He himself had uncovered gray walls. Ryan had some pictures on his walls. Brendon knew about keeping emotions safely hidden away behind walls. Ryan likes to hide precious things within holes in walls. Brendon knows about keeping feelings locked away behind walls until it’s impossible to tell you are feeling them anymore.
Yes. Brendon knew a thing or two about walls. Though, he did not want to think about walls right now, he wanted to think about Ryan.
He wanted to knock his walls down for Ryan. However, if he did, Brendon may just barricade himself behind a door.
His feelings were none of Ryan’s goddamned business.
Maybe they are though. Maybe. Just, maybe. Brendon doesn’t know. How can one know when they’ve been surrounded by walls their whole lives?
Perhaps Brendon should sleep outside.
*
When Brendon awoke the next morning the first thing that caught his eye was the stack of revision sheets on his desk. He felt a little sick to the stomach. But the guilt only lasted for a few minutes. I didn’t do what they said … Ryan would be proud, mused Brendon.
Yawning, Brendon dug a little deeper under his covers. He wasn’t mad at Ryan anymore. Though, how he simply loved his moments of madness. Reaching across to grab a book off his bedside table, Brendon’s hand brushed across something strange. Sitting bolt upright, Brendon whipped around and spotted a folded note accompanying a daisy. Brendon’s heart began to beat faster as he unfolded the paper.
- Bren
I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being so argumentative. I’m sorry for how bad you feel. I’m sorry for how forgiving you are. I’m sorry for leaving. I’m sorry for staying. I’m sorry for our shy glances. I’m sorry that my heart beats for you. I’m sorry that the things I write are for you. I’m sorry life isn’t a fairytale. I’m sorry you take the blame.
I’m sorry I’m you. I’m sorry you’re me.
I’m sorry I’m waiting for you at the park. I’m sorry that I don’t know if you’ll come.
I’m sorry.
- Ryan
Sorry, sorry, sorry. Tears sprung into Brendon’s eyes as he read Ryan’s note again. Brendon then proceeded to leap from his bed and run to the park down the end of his street, still dressed in the very same clothes that he’d been wearing for the last three days.
Panting, Brendon looked around the park; he felt a burning need gripping at his chest. He spotted Ryan sitting at a bench under a large tree.
“Ryan!” called out Brendon, running towards the seated figure with a newfound energy.
Ryan jumped up upon hearing his name. His face broke into a grin - a real grin - once he saw a good ninety pounds of energy running towards him.
“Brendon,” said Ryan hoarsely, just before he was tackled.
“I’m sorry,” choked out Brendon, gripping at Ryan’s shirt and letting his tears freefall. “I’m sorry I don’t listen to you.”
“I’m sorry you don’t smile,” counteracted Ryan, sitting them up.
“I’m sorry I tackled you,” said Brendon tearfully, but he was smiling slightly.
“I’m sorry I didn’t warn you before doing this,” said Ryan quickly before giving Brendon the sweetest, softest, most goddamn sugarcoated kiss that the younger boy ever had the pleasure to take possession of. When Ryan pulled back, Brendon was panting. Not because of the running, not because of the kiss, not because his joy for seeing Ryan again, but because of the thousand volts of energy jolting through his veins at that very moment.
Brendon sighed and stood. He didn’t know what to do, so he left. “I’ll see you at school on Monday,” he said before leaving. Of course, what he had meant to say was ‘I’m sorry I didn’t let you do that sooner’.
Brendon ignored how reminiscent this was of the day before.
Monday came and went and the kiss wasn’t discussed. Things proved the same for Tuesday and Wednesday and Thursday. Soon, a whole two weeks had flown by without a single word uttered about the kiss.
By the time Ryan brought up what had happened, Brendon had shackled the memory to the back of his mind and had begun thinking he was in the blue. Though, as he and Ryan walked to school - Ryan a little ahead - the older boy brought it up.
This was all Brendon’s fault anyway, Brendon and his damn lips. Though, mused Ryan, it was also the words that fell from those lips.
“Brendon?” asked Ryan hesitantly.
Brendon did not like the tone of Ryan’s voice. “ … Yeah?”
“We really need to talk about … um, what happened the other week.”
Brendon nodded gloomily. “Okay. Do you regret it?”
Ryan was taken aback. That’s not what Brendon was supposed to say. “What? No, of course not, I’d do it again. I mean, fuck. You ran away, so I’m regretting I pushed you away, not the kiss.”
Brendon nodded slowly before grabbing Ryan’s wrist. “Come on,” he said easily, “let’s skip school.”
Brendon wasn’t energetic enough to even consider how angry his parents would be.
Ryan’s eyes widened slightly, but he wasn’t going to argue. He was curious as to what Brendon wanted to do. “Okay,” agreed Ryan.
Brendon grinned. “Great. Is your mom home?”
Ryan shook his head, some of his curiosity fading. “No, you know she starts work early on week days.”
Brendon smiled again. “Okay, let’s go to your house.”
Ryan frowned slightly. “Oh, the thrills,” he said dryly before shrugging. “Sure. We could go sleep, or something, I’m tired.”
The walk to Ryan’s house didn’t take too long. That was the good thing about the city; everything was close. It was a warm and breezy morning. Brendon bit his lip as he and Ryan walked together.
“Is something wrong?” asked Ryan as he and Brendon strolled up to his front door.
“No, nothing. I’m totally fine,” insisted Brendon.
“That’s what I’m worried about,” said Ryan, unlocking the door with the key he kept on a chain around his neck. Brendon went inside first, welcoming the feelings that overwhelmed him upon entry. He felt as though this was his home.
“Let’s go up to my room,” said Ryan, starting up the stairs. Brendon followed.
Ryan only had a single bed in his room, but he and Brendon always fit on it. Ryan climbed onto it first, lying on his back. He beckoned Brendon over, confused as to why he was still standing coyly beside the door.
Brendon walked towards Ryan, his pace slow and his breathing deep. Ryan’s heart was beating faster and faster as the teen moved closer and closer, until he was on top of Ryan, straddling the breathless boy’s waist. Thoughts were running through Brendon’s head, each and every one of them telling him how wrong this was.
Thoughts were drumming on Ryan’s skull, each and every one of them telling him how right this was.
A small, feeble voice that Brendon had been listening to for his whole life uttered how absolutely outraged his parents would be if they found out.
Brendon leaned forward; placing his hands on either side of the pillow Ryan was resting his head against. Exhaling, Brendon went forwards, placing a tender kiss on Ryan’s closed lips. Brendon had no idea what he was doing. Kissing another boy was disgusting, immoral, wrong, argued the small voice. Brendon banished it from his mind.
Leaning closer, Brendon spoke in a low voice. “Usually,” he breathed, “for a kiss to work, you have to … kiss back.”
Ryan let out a soft moan as Brendon sat back up, pulling his shirt off - something he never would have done, or dreamed of doing, if pure adrenaline hadn’t been coursing through his veins. Closing his eyes and leaning back down, Brendon pressed his lips against Ryan’s once again. This time Ryan forced his tongue into Brendon’s mouth. Brendon’s eyebrows furrowed, his eyes remained closed. He hadn’t been expecting tongues. Brendon tried not to pull away as Ryan licked Brendon’s lips.
After all, this was Ryan, not just some boy.
A shivery pleasure ran through Brendon at his realization. They started kissing again, more aggressively, until Ryan placed a hand on Brendon’s thin chest and pushed him backwards gently.
Brendon looked at Ryan, confused. “Wha - ”
Ryan shook his head. “Don’t make me regret this. This isn’t what you want, is it?”
Brendon smiled weakly. “It’s what you want,” he said simply, leaning forward to kiss Ryan again, but Ryan pushed him backwards.
“I don’t think you are ready,” whispered Ryan.
Brendon practically hissed before jumping off the older boy. He walked around the room quickly. This wasn’t what Ryan wanted. He’d disappointed Ryan, and his parents. Oh god, what if his parents found out?
“It’s all about me, isn’t it?” challenged Brendon, “let me do something for you for once. I’ll have sex with you, Ryan.” Tears were beginning to drip down Brendon’s face now. He didn’t understand, couldn’t understand. He had been so convinced that this was what Ryan wanted.
“Brendon, it’s not that I don’t want to have sex with you, it’s just, well. I love - ”
“I love you too,” whispered Brendon, hanging his head. He was disgusting.
“You aren’t emotionally ready, Brendon,” said Ryan quietly, sitting up and beckoning Brendon over. Brendon walked over, sniffling.
“Can w-we still hug?” asked Brendon.
“Of course,” said Ryan softly, pulling Brendon onto him.
Brendon chuckled wetly. “What would I do without you?” sighed Brendon. “You always look after me.”
“It’s because I love you,” breathed Ryan, kissing a few of Brendon’s tears away, before stopping himself.
Love. Ryan hadn’t meant to fall in love, not yet. At least, he thinks that its love. He can’t really be sure, since he’s never been in love before.
At some point Brendon and Ryan must have fallen asleep, for it was dark outside when Brendon awoke. Ryan was laying beside him, stroking his hair, watching him sleep. It was nice, though strange. Quite strange.
“What are you doing?” asked Brendon sleepily, yawning.
“Watching.”
Brendon winced as chills ran through him. His parents would be wondering where he was. “Ryan I have t -”
“Don’t worry. My mom called them, You are staying here for the weekend.”
“Oh, what did they say?”
Ryan shrugged and Brendon sighed, pulling Ryan’s covers up to his shoulders.
“Do you want to go watch TV? Have dinner?”
Brendon shook his head, laughingly, smilingly. “No,” he said, closing his eyes, “I want to sleep forever.”
“You still have a good forty-five summers left until You are old and gray, I’m afraid you can’t sleep forever yet.”
Brendon wrinkled his nose. “I never want to grow up,” he declared, “I’ll die young.”
“I wouldn’t let you.”
“Why?”
“Because,” said Ryan, smiling sadly, “the world wouldn’t work without you.”
Brendon smiled.
*
Subject: RE: Hey Brenda
To: Brendonurie@gmail.com
Sent: December 24th 2002
From: jwalker@hotmail.com
Attachment/s:
Hey, buddy!
My mom is thinking about moving back to Cali! I have to admit I’m a little pleased. I really want to see you again and my friends are getting a little tiring, I don’t really know. I guess they just don’t know me like you do.
How is Ryan? He’s not taking my place, is he? I hope not, because Brendon and Jon just sounds so much cooler than Brendon and Ryan, sorry but it’s the truth. And, yeah, okay, maybe I’m just a little jealous. I’m only human! Ha-ha.
It’s Christmas tomorrow, I know your parents don’t like to celebrate the holiday, but I wish you could be here to have fun with us. I’ve gotta go, miss you.
Happy Christmas.
Love,
Jonny.
*
Ryan gave Brendon a mix-tape for Christmas. It had all of Brendon’s favorite songs on it. “Thanks, Ryan,” said Brendon, hugging the older boy tightly. Ryan always knew the perfect gifts to get. He felt the shame swell in his chest, knowing he hadn't gotten Ryan anything. He just wasn't practised with Christmas. And Ryan knew that.
“It’s no problem,” chuckled Ryan, stroking Brendon’s hair.
Ryan waited at the Smoothie Hut for the two hours as Brendon worked his shift the next day. The weather outside was beautiful, sunny, and warm. Ryan had an idea for what he and Brendon could spend the remainder of the afternoon doing.
As Ryan watched Brendon lean on the counter, staring dreamily into space, Ryan was hit with a realization. It slammed into him like a train crash. He didn’t want Brendon to go home. Though he never mentioned the purple and blue marks marring Brendon’s skin and never spoke of the red welts, it didn’t mean that Ryan didn’t see them. Brendon was his now, therefore he should stay with Ryan. Only, Brendon wasn’t really his and hadn’t Ryan pushed him away the night before?
Brendon belonged to his parents, if anything.
Ryan hated it.
“We should go to the lake when your shift ends,” said Ryan.
Brendon smiled at Ryan, awakening from his daydream. He was tired, dreadfully tired. If Ryan wanted to go to the lake though, if it would please Ryan, then certainly, Brendon would go.
Though, Ryan didn’t understand. Brendon knew that it didn’t matter what backdrop they were ahead of, as long as they were together.
Ryan drove them to the lake once Brendon’s shift was over. Something was niggling at the back of Brendon’s mind, though he didn’t know how exactly to voice it. The syntax of his heart was hard to word. He should say it simply, he supposed. Simple words were always the best.
“Ryan? What is this, well, this thing? Is it even a thing? I don’t know if friends usually say they love each other …”
Ryan’s eyes remained focused on the road. “I guess it’s a ‘thing’,” he said uncertainly, “would you ever want to do the things that we did with anyone else?”
Brendon shook his head vigorously. Though he had kissed Ryan and been willing to do god knows what with the older boy, he most definitely wouldn’t do it with anyone else, male or female. At least he didn’t think so, this was all new to him.
“No, of course not, it’s for you and you only,” said Brendon, somewhat truthfully, feeling more confused than he had mere minutes ago. Ryan’s answer wasn’t wrong. Ryan’s answers were never wrong, just confusing.
However, Brendon has been wrong before.
It was nice at the lake, calm and soothing. A few speedboats were whirling around on the other side, but for now it was peaceful. The little kiosk that stood to the left of the car park was open, so Brendon and Ryan both bought an ice cream each. Ryan got strawberry and Brendon got vanilla.
They sat together on the back, licking their ice creams. Brendon was thinking about his family. He missed them. Sure, he didn’t see much of his brothers and sister, but he missed his parents. Perhaps he should go home that afternoon instead of staying with Ryan for the rest of the weekend. Just so his parents would know that Brendon wasn’t avoiding them or anything. Maybe they were worried. Brendon should probably go home that afternoon.
If he did, then Ryan would be disappointed.
Brendon didn’t really want to go home. It was a lose-lose situation.
Brendon told his mind to hush, deciding he would think about this later. Probably never. Brendon’s eyes drifted over to Ryan, who was watching him blatantly. He smiled a smile, which Brendon did not return. Ryan was wearing one of his vintage outfits. Ryan liked to collect outfits.
Ryan liked to collect outfits and Brendon liked to collect secrets.
“Brendon?” asked Ryan, “Brendon, are you okay?”
Brendon’s ice cream was melting. It was funny how things never lasted.
“Huh? Oh, yes. I’m fine, just rather lost,” he said, smiling weakly. Lost within his only refuge.
“Yeah. I noticed,” snickered Ryan.
The jet skier flying along behind the boat fell with a large splash. Brendon cringed.
“Is it enough that we can only share words and kisses?” asked Brendon, drawing his eyes away from the jet skier, now holding his arms up. Ryan looked concerned. It wasn’t a nice look. Ryan shouldn’t be concerned.
“Of course,” he said simply, reaching across and stroking Brendon’s cheekbone. Shivers jolted down Brendon’s spine.
“But,” said Brendon, “wouldn’t you like to be the closest to each other that we could possibly be?”
That sounded better in Brendon’s mind. Saying that makes it sound like Brendon wants it. He doesn’t, he really doesn’t. Though he does, but only with Ryan. Not yet, however, not yet.
“All in due course, you aren’t ready,” said Ryan, repeating the same words that had been uttered the previous night.
Will it be enough?
“I think I have an exam this week. I haven’t studied.”
Ryan’s eyes widened slightly. “Really? That isn’t like you.” Of course, what Ryan meant to say was ‘really? I’m worried about when your parents find out’.
Obviously, Brendon’s parents will find out.
Brendon nodded agreeably. The expression on Ryan’s face and the very glint in Ryan’s eyes made things collapse inside of him, and Brendon felt like falling. Ryan should stop looking at him like that. It would only be polite.
“What will you do if you get a low mark?”
Brendon furrowed his eyebrows. He wasn’t sure. Somewhere though,… through his flesh, sinews, meat, organs and bones, somewhere in that area, under all the layers of disappointment, behind the doors of sadness, through Brendon’s dark walls and beyond his secrets, he didn’t care. Brendon Urie did not care.
So that’s what Brendon Urie said. “I won’t do anything. I don’t care anymore. I’m over it.”
Ryan was shocked. Ryan was stunned. “Really?” he asked disbelievingly, giddily, mainly disbelievingly.
“Really,” confirmed Brendon. He liked that. He felt better. He felt freer. Maybe somewhere far away, maybe somewhere close by, happiness was blooming, just for him.
Ryan grinned, a grin of pure pleasure. “Great, maybe when you’ve said that enough you’ll believe it.”
“Maybe,” said Brendon.
One day Brendon might look back at this memory and laugh. Laugh at how naïve he had been. He would never be rid of his parents. Although for now, his words held truth and for now that was all he needed.
It was dark once Brendon and Ryan arrived back at Ryan’s house. Brendon was tired. Some regret for his words at the lake was clawing at Brendon’s belly.
“Go up and pick a movie,” said Ryan, “I’ll get us some food.”
Brendon tramped up the stairs slowly, with each step it seemed as though weight was being lifted from his ribcage. He may disappoint his parents, but in the act he wouldn’t be disappointing Ryan. Maybe that’s okay. Maybe Brendon doesn’t mind. Maybe Brendon doesn’t like that Ryan always leaves him to choose a movie. Maybe Brendon will choose one because Ryan would be let down if he doesn’t.
Brendon was awfully tired. He tried to stay awake, to no avail. Brendon fell asleep before Ryan climbed the stairs.
Before Ryan entered the room.
Before Ryan whispered in Brendon’s ear and held his sleeping form.
And Ryan may lie for a great many reasons, but Brendon was most definitely not one of them. Ryan liked Brendon very much. Loved him, perhaps. If Ryan knew exactly what love was then maybe, just maybe he’d be able to say ‘I love you’ with a little more conviction to Brendon.
Though it wouldn’t stop Ryan saying it to Brendon. God knows that kid needs a little more happiness in his life.
Ryan wondered how many times Brendon had heard those three words.
It seemed the whole world was intent on cutting pieces from Brendon. First his happiness, then his parents’ approval, even, possibly, a small piece of his mind.
If there was one thing that the world wasn’t going to cut away from Brendon, it was Ryan.
For, it was still storming, and Brendon hadn’t yet crossed the bridge.
*
When Brendon finally returned home Sunday night his parents were upstairs watching television. Brendon just wanted to go hide in his room, but deemed it best that he go and see his parents. They didn’t spare him a glance when he entered the room. Was something wrong? Did he do something? Did they find out about he and Ryan?
Brendon sat down gingerly on an armchair, feigning nonchalance whilst his heart went into overdrive.
“Brendon,” stated his father, twisting his tongue around the name. Tasting the syllables, savoring the letters. The name Brendon, variant of Brendan, meant ‘prince’, his father portrayed Brendon’s name in such a way, as though he wasn’t worthy of his own name.
Maybe he wasn’t.
“Yeah?” asked Brendon coldly, trying to rid the fear from his voice. Banishing the electrifying panic from his mind. “Father,” he added, fighting fire with fire.
“Care to explain why your marks have nearly dropped an entire letter?”
He swallowed his fear, but unfortunately Brendon couldn’t bite back the insolent remark that fell from his lips. “No,” retorted Brendon. His heart was beating. He was shocked. His parents were shocked.
What had he done?
Brendon stood and left the room. Leaving a pair of shocked and angry faces in the room. Leaving the memory of what had happened moments before to haunt his mind.
What was he doing?
Brendon ran down the stairs, hearing shouts from above, calling him back - demanding him to return. Their tones were demeaning.
Brendon flung the front door open., and walked quickly into the darkness that night provided.
He hadn’t been courageous, just stupid. Speaking back to your parents wasn’t valiant; it wasn’t admirable. It was insolent. Brendon was insolent.
Maybe he was courageous too.
Brendon stayed out. He felt wonderfully free. It was night and the city was his. Brendon didn’t feel the rain when it fell, he didn’t feel anything until he was chilled to the very bone. He wouldn’t be surprised if his blood had turned to ice.
Brendon turned down a narrow street. He sat on the cold metal bench in the moonlight, under the stars, amidst the wintry rains. He sat at the bus stop.
He sat and he waited.
The boy at the bus stop has haunting beauty and such a corrupted soul.
Brendon is waiting until he bleeds into nothing. Though, he once heard in science class once that you can’t create or dissolve chemicals; they shall always be there. That’s fine, Brendon doesn’t mind fading into some type of gas. He will float away, to somewhere past the desert, to somewhere over the hills.
Somewhere away from his depressing emotions.
Brendon looks up, a few stray tears blurring his vision. Was that someone up in the window? Oh, no, just a curtain.
Brendon should get up and go home before his parents get too angry. Wouldn’t that be giving in? If so, what would he be relinquishing? It was a battle he couldn’t win. A battle he shouldn’t have instigated. It was his fault.
Is it bad that Brendon is beginning to disbelieve that?
Tearing away from the bench, seemingly tearing away from his very body, Brendon stood. He didn’t know where to go. His skin was drinking in the rain. He was becoming liquid.
Brendon shut his eyes and spun around. Parents, Ryan, mom, dad, Ryan, family, Ryan. When Brendon stopped he was facing the direction of his house. Sighing, he started walking home.
Brendon wanted a happy ending. Only time would tell if he would get one.
Brendon entered the house quietly, stealthily. The television upstairs was still blaring as Brendon sneaked into his room.
Inside, his father was sitting on his bed, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. He held something in his hand. When Brendon walked in, his dad looked up instantly. Brendon looked at the piece of lined paper clutched in his father’s hand. His skull’s very smile seemed to widen.
“What are you doing in here?” asked Brendon quietly.
“We need to talk,” said his father venomously.
Brendon didn’t want to talk. He stood across from his father, watching nervously. He held up the piece of paper.
“What is this?”
“I wouldn’t know. I can’t see from here.”
“Then come closer,” said his father angrily.
Brendon stepped forward hesitantly. His heart stopped as he recognized the note as the very same one Ryan had given him.
“ ‘I’m sorry that my heart beats for you’,” quoted Brendon’s father, “what’s this?”
“Ryan was working on a letter for his mother, he left it with me so I could give him my opinion,” said Brendon coldly. “Please leave my room now. I know you put me down here because it’s out of the way, don’t feel as though you need to stay for my benefit.”
Both Brendon and his father knew he’d gone too far. Brendon’s father took off his belt, and Brendon never apologized the entire time.
Brendon had a dark dream that night.
He was lying on the sidewalk, bleeding, dying. His eyes wouldn’t close and people were passing him, stepping over him, ignoring him. Ryan was there, looking at Brendon with hate-filled eyes. Brendon let out a strangled cry.
“Why isn’t anyone helping me?” he asked tearfully. It was hurting.
“Because they can’t see you.”
The pain was bad, so, so bad. “W-why aren’t you helping me?
“Because I don’t care.”
Brendon was too fallible to help, so Ryan left Brendon.
*
Brendon wasn’t very interested in talking to Ryan the next day and Ryan noticed. Ryan also noticed the marks on Brendon’s body. He was angry, but he didn’t say anything.
At lunchtime Brendon stared into space. He wanted to say something to Ryan, but he wasn’t sure what. He supposed this had something to do with the dream the previous night. That was something his mind had conjured, Ryan would never do that, would he?
“I hate my parents,” said Brendon darkly. He hated them so much, yet he loved them. He wanted to upset them, yet he didn’t want to disappoint them.
Ryan was surprised. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh,” said Ryan, looking at the ground, trying to get to grips with what Brendon had said, seemingly out of nowhere.
“I had a bad dream last night,” said Brendon tiredly.
“What was it about?”
“You,” said Brendon, frowning, “you wouldn’t help me.”
Ryan frowned too and moved closer to Brendon, putting an arm around Brendon’s thin shoulders. “You know I’d never do that, right?”
“Yeah,” said Brendon before saying some incomprehensible things.
“I wish your father wouldn’t hurt you,” said Ryan softly, whispering against Brendon’s hair.
Brendon pulled away. “It’s my fault,” he said venomously, “my marks are slipping and I ran away. I can’t think stop thinking about you, so it’s your fault too.”
Brendon still needed to please his parents.
Ryan sighed. “This is your problem, you know? You say these things, but you don’t mean them. You’ve been blind to everything your whole life, I wish you could just wake up,” said Ryan angrily, standing up.
Brendon stood up too. “I’m sorry I’m me, Ryan Ross. You don’t know what it’s like! Never good enough, never strong enough, never smart enough, never! It’s never ‘oh, Brendon you did your best’ I - I can’t do anything right!”
“Keep telling yourself that,” hissed Ryan before turning and walking away.
Brendon sighed. Now he had done it. “Ryan, wait,” he said, catching up to Ryan and putting his hand on Ryan’s shoulder, “I’m sor - ”
Brendon stumbled backwards as Ryan whipped around punched him. Brendon looked at him with wide eyes as tears welled up inside of them, not because of the pain, because for the first time in his life he was scared of Ryan.
Ryan swore, coming back to reality. “Brendon! Oh god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it, I - ”
“I understand,” whispered Brendon, before turning around and walking away. He was choking back sobs. He had learnt to expect this kind of abuse from his parents, he accepted it from strangers, but he had never imagined Ryan would ever hit him.
Brendon kept walking.
Ryan didn’t call him back.
In class Brendon sat as far away from Ryan as possible. He felt terrible, though not because that Ryan had hit him. He had provoked Ryan. It was entirely his fault. The ever-present sense of discontent that usually loomed around him now seemed intensified a thousand times.
He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t talk to Ryan. He didn’t know what to say.
Brendon’s physical fear of Ryan had ebbed away by the time creative writing was over. Though, Brendon was still scared of what Ryan thought of him. Brendon wondered if things would be better if he stayed with Ryan. He was confused. So confused.
His thoughts kept colliding, his emotions were contrasting and his very soul seemed to be contradicting itself. Brendon was sure his heart would start bleeding if he didn’t talk to Ryan soon.
Ryan was waiting outside the classroom for Brendon. He was biting his lip. He owed Brendon something, but Brendon wasn’t sure what it was.
“Ryan, I -,” Brendon stopped. He didn’t know what. His own words were against him. Wasn’t it Ryan who always told him to do his own thing? Speak his mind?
Armed with a new kind of force, Brendon looked Ryan straight in the eye. The older boy was trembling slightly, staring at where he had punched Brendon. Subconsciously, Brendon brushed his hand over the blue and red bruise expanding over some of Brendon’s lower lip and part of his chin.
“There’s no excuse for what you did, actually. You..I… we’re different people, it’s too bad it took me so long to notice. I don’t even feel like I know you anymore. Hell, I don’t even know what I’m saying. ‘Always and forever’, you always used to tell me that. Well, I changed my mind. I don’t want forever. I don’t want love,” Brendon paused, looking away from Ryan briefly before continuing, “I can feel you in my mind. You are my conscience, but, ugh. I don’t know. I give up. I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess, or we could pretend we never met.”
Thoroughly embarrassed, Brendon pushed past a shocked and thunderstruck Ryan. Brendon’s words were so delicate, so fragile. They had left his very heart, rendering him empty. He had disappointed Ryan. He was cracking. He doesn’t care.
This time we wanted to mean it. This time he needed to mean it.
By the time school resumed the next day Brendon and Ryan were on speaking terms with each other. They were using soft, docile words. Ryan was dancing around the bruise just to the side of Brendon’s lip, whilst Brendon avoided mentioning what he had said yesterday. They felt hollow.
Like bodies without ghosts.
*
That weekend both Brendon and Ryan were at Ryan’s house again. It was cold; the chilling winds were blowing in through Ryan’s open window. Brendon was shivering and had climbed under Ryan’s bed covers without asking whilst the older boy was fixing Mac and cheese for dinner.
Ryan wandered back into the room, carrying two steaming bowls of past. He raised an eyebrow at the shivering boy that was curled into a ball, residing under his covers.
“Are you okay?” asked Ryan, nudging Brendon.
“I-it’s r-really c-cold,” whispered Brendon.
Ryan smiled and climbed over Brendon, sitting beside him. “Do you want to go have a shower?” asked Ryan.
“Y-yeah, if that’s o-okay,” replied Brendon, gingerly climbing out from the covers. Ryan nodded.
“Hey,” said Ryan, placing his hand on the side of Brendon’s small waist. Brendon flinched as Ryan touched him. “Um, are you okay?”
“Yeah, y-yeah, I’m f-fine,” dismissed Brendon, making to stand, but Ryan stopped him.
Ryan frowned as he lifted Brendon’s shirt up, ignoring the whispered cries that the still boy was making. All Ryan was met with was black and blue skin. Ryan’s eyes doubled in size as he ran his fingers lightly along the bruised skin. Brendon shuddered, but remained stationary.
“What happened here?” asked Ryan tearfully.
Brendon hissed. “You know what happened, Ryan. I know you like to ignore what happens to me, but you can’t be that blind.”
“I-I never knew it was that bad,” admitted Ryan, pulling Brendon’s shirt back down.
“Yeah, well, what are you going to do, I guess. I’m going to go have a shower, um, do you have a spare towel? And, like, some pajamas?”
“Yeah, hang on,” said Ryan, hurrying from the room.
“Thank you,” whispered Brendon into the silence, before standing and following Ryan out of the room. Ryan was just returning, an old pair of track pants and a big gray shirt slung over one arm whilst a fuzzy white towel was draped over the other. Brendon took to the garments and towel from Ryan.
“I’ll go pick a movie and warm the bed up,” said Ryan, giving Brendon a tender rub on the back before disappearing back into his room.
Brendon made his way down the hall and into Ryan’s bathroom. It was cold and airy inside. Brendon shut the door behind him before removing his clothes. He shuddered as the wintry cold attacked him. He hastily climbed into the shower, adjusting the taps until hot water was running down is body, sending shivers down his spine. Sighing, Brendon leant his head back and closed his eyes.
He let his everything wash down the drain. Then he slid down the wall until he was in a sitting position.
Sometimes Brendon thinks about Ryan in ways he shouldn’t. He dreams about Ryan touching him. In his illusions, they kiss and whisper special things into each other’s ears. Special things that are forgotten by the time Brendon awakes.
They bite, entwine, join at the mouth and celebrate a forbidden love. It’s beautiful. They’re beautiful.
When Brendon has these thoughts he is eternally grateful that Ryan cannot read minds.
“Brendon? Hey, Brendon?” whispered Ryan frantically as he shook Brendon awake. The water had stopped running. Brendon woke with a start.
“Ryan, wha - oh,” said Brendon, quickly taking the towel from Ryan’s hands so he could cover himself.
“Are you okay?” asked Ryan shakily as he and Brendon stood.
“Yeah I-I’m fine. Are you all right?” counteracted Brendon, as he wrapped the towel around his waist and picked the clothes Ryan had given him off the floor.
“You were in there for about half an hour before I went to see if you were okay. You looked so … calm and peaceful. I thought you were d-dead,” whispered Ryan, pulling Brendon into a tight hug. Brendon wondered briefly if Ryan was hugging him to reassure himself that Brendon was still there, or to comfort Brendon. Either way, Brendon liked the contact.
“Could you s-stop?” asked Brendon softly, “It’s just that I’m really cold and I want to put these c-clothes on before I f-freeze.”
Ryan pulled away and climbed onto his bed, deliberately not looking at Brendon as he pulled the clothes on. A few moments later Ryan felt something light climb under the covers with him. Ryan put his arms around Brendon, holding the cold boy against him. Ryan kissed the top of Brendon’s head.
“Brendon, um, I-I was wondering … we never have enough time here, like, so do you, uh,” Ryan chuckled, “I’ve never really done this before, but, um, I like you so, so much, heck, I love you. And I was, um, just wondering if you wanted to, uh, g-get together with me? Like, um, go out? Boyfriends?”
“Y-yeah, yeah. Of course,” replied Brendon feebly before he snuggled closer against Ryan and his breathing evened out.
Ryan’s heart swelled, but his head wondered if he was doing the right thing.
Things will be all right.
part three